That Hunger
by gymjunky71
Summary: Katniss and Peeta have their first time together. Kantniss's POV. Set a few years after Mockingjay. Peeta asks Katniss out to dinner and the night goes better than either could have foreseen. One Shot. COMPLETE.


**That Hunger**

Peeta has been my neighbor in Victor's Village since four months after the Capitol lost the war. But we spend most nights in each other's houses together because we still need each other. I assassinated President Coin because she killed my little sister, Prim. He saved me from taking the nightlock pill. After I was deemed insane and therefore not responsible for killing Coin, I was sent to live in District 12 for the rest of my life. It was not easy to recover from my traumas.

Me and Peeta had the same psychiatrist, Aurelius. Along with Haymitch, Peeta helped me find a reason to keep on living. I still had my nightmares and he had his hijacking-flashbacks. But, we were making progress. I have grey eyes, olive skin, and long straight back hair.

I am small in stature. My body is littered with scars and parts of my scalp is bald. I was thin for my age while growing up and I still am in my face. But I my breasts grew and my hips are wider now - thanks in part to Peeta's excellent baking goods. My clothes for hunting and casual days fit differently than they used to.

I was not very image-conscious before and not much has changed to this day. I did the bare minimum upkeep. Peeta has blue eyes and wavy, ashy-blond hair. He stopped growing at almost six feet tall. While Peeta was held captive by the Capitol, they starved him.

So how he grew this tall was a bit of a mystery to all of us. Gale Hawthorne was taller but Peeta was not so medium in height anymore. He managed to gain most of that weight back because I took to encouraging him to eat every meal, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Snacks if he could manage. We will never have to starve again.

He is older now and has left behind the youthful roundness of his face. He has a strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones, and his cheeks were sunken especially whenever he talked. But this was not in the starved, malnourished sort of way. Physically, we were healthier than we had ever been.

The tourniquet I used to stop him from hemorrhaging from his left leg during our first Games ended up costing him that leg from the thigh down. The Capitol supplied him with an prosthetic leg afterwards but I felt responsible. But, I am not a doctor. I did the best that I could in the circumstance ... right?

_Ugh_, those are the kind of thoughts that nag at me whenever I see it without warning. Whenever Peeta has a limp in his gate or I see a glimpse of it from the cuff of his pants. But I don't see it often because Peeta wears long pants all the time. Jeans, trousers, and fancy pants. With recovery returned an old preoccupation of mine: Sex. While the Games were still being held, I would not touch that subject with a ten foot pole.

But after the war and I recovered enough ... on a whim, I bought a pack of condoms. I purchased them from a discrete mail-order company because I did not feel comfortable buying them with the eyes of District 12 on me in the convenience store. I stored them in my bedside drawer a few months ago when I started feeling better and they've been collecting dust ever since.

I awoke to the smell of Peeta cooking. I come downstairs in my pajamas at 7 o'clock. Peeta is cooking and wearing an apron over his jeans and long sleeve shirt.

"Good morning," he tells me brightly.

Flaky buttered biscuits, sizzling hash browns, and fluffy scrambled eggs with sausages. There was more of it than usual and Haymitch was nowhere to be seen. He still drinks but now he raises geese as a hobby.

"Where is he?" I ask.

Peeta comments, "You've been pretty distant lately. I selfishly wanted to have breakfast with just you."

"Poor Haymitch. Leaving him out." I tease.

"I think he'll live." Peeta wrinkles his nose and winks at me.

Though there was quite the size difference between us, I could readily eat as much as he could. We serve ourselves and I thank him for the homemade breakfast.

"What are you gonna do today?" he asks me.

I shrug, "I haven't thought about it yet. Same as always. Maybe take a swim if the weather's good for it. And you?"

His prosthetic leg made me worry for him because he got tired quicker than able-bodied people. I didn't like him straining himself.

"I think we need to take a step off the beaten path," Peeta says.

I look up, "How do you mean?"

"I want to take you to one of these places called 'restaurants'." he asks. "Take a break from cooking for ourselves."

I loved cooking with him, "If you need a break, I could cook tonight -"

"We need to get out, Katniss. In public. Mingle. It'll be good for us. Aurelius recommended it a long time ago." Peeta insisted.

I look up into those eyes, "... Ok."

Peeta gave a _that-was-easier-than-I-anticipated_ sort of smile, "Ok. These places are rated by stars. One star is bad. Five stars is the best. There's one that opened a couple weeks ago in town. What do you think?"

"The best." I repeat. "Meaning its fancy?"

Peeta shrugs and smiles, "It'll be nice to dress up for ourselves for once."

I hesitate longer this time, "... Ok."

"It's a date?" he asks.

That gave me pause. I had only just started feeling romantic-closeness to Peeta. I was wondering what Old Me would say but I had to forget about her. This was me now. I can't keep living in the past.

Peeta is waiting for an answer.

"You know the way to my heart is through my stomach." I accept, simpering at him.

Peeta is more cheerful than I have seen him since the war ended. Like this was some victory to get me to go out on a date with him. Considering I'm still dealing with PTSD and depression, I think he's overvaluing his prize. Not that I am a prize to be won, of course. It hasn't hit me yet the significance of the date.

I was telling him that I was interested, right? I hope he felt that way because it's true. I want to be happy and he wants to be happy. And we're happiest together.

He gave me a warm hug before he left to the Mellark Bakery, "I'll pick you up at 7 o'clock."

We did not _need _to work for our income because of our Games winnings but Peeta enjoyed it. He was more sensitive between us and needed ... daintier distractions. They are daintier than my hobby, which is hunting. He paints and has a way with words I could never have, even if my quotes spurned on the rebellion years ago. I decide to bathe rather than swim in a pond. I spend the whole day fretting about tonight, jumping to a lot of conclusions.

_Is Peeta my boyfriend now? I, his girlfriend?_ I picked my burgundy dress with a boat neckline that was fitted around my torso and flared out at my waist. I normally did not wear a bra, and tonight was no exception. The straps would show with this dress anyway. Because I don't shave my legs, I pull on my stockings.

I took my trench coat from its hanger for when it gets cold. I did my best attempt with makeup. Just mascara, eyeliner, shadow, and moisturize my lips. No makeup artists or hairdressers to help me now. Because it's cold outside, I free my hair from its braid to keep my ears warm.

When the clock strikes 6 o'clock, I am visually ready. It's my mind that needed more time. I knew Peeta wasn't pressuring me into this date. I was ruining it all on my own. I want this.

"I want this," I inform my paranoia.

At 7 o'clock, I step into my flats. In the mirror, I thought I didn't look too far from my natural self. Just cleaner. I exit my bedroom. I walked down the stairs, distinctly aware of how my flats clapped the floor.

_Clap, clap, clap, clap._

I find Peeta resting in my living room with a bouquet of azaleas in his lap. He stands up when he sees me almost reach the bottom of the stairs. He is wearing a white blouse, dark brown trousers with suspenders, and a dark grey overcoat.

"You look beautiful." He says.

Up close, I notice that his face is freshly shaven. He smells like cedar wood and his hair is combed, parted off to one side. He looked so handsome and there was a twinkle in his eyes when he saw me. I love to see him so happy and I hope there is a twinkle in mine.

"Can I kiss you?" I ask him quietly.

I am not sure how he'll react. We haven't kissed in so long, let alone without any threat hanging over our heads. Then he grinned. His expression was beautifully dumbfounded and his face lit up. I couldn't help but smile back.

My chest feels tight in anticipation of it. He stooped to kiss me. His mouth tasted like he had been brushing it for years with mint. Our noses dig into each other's cheeks and I could feel his hot breath tingle my skin there. Peeta was so warm.

His arms were firm to the touch and his callused hands steadfast. I loved the feel of one spread against my back. My hands were on his flat belly.

"We've got a reservation," Peeta laughed, his lips ascending away from mine.

I take his hand and we walk from Victors Village to the town. We pull on our coats because the weather decided it was not the perfect night for a date. I had noticed the restaurants in District 12 but never asked what they were. Indeed, I was not the only one. For so long we've barely been able to afford grain and oil.

According to Peeta, they have these things in the Capitol. I was used to hunting and trading for food. Buying it with tesseras when hunting was scarce. This has changed of course since the Capitol fell. Hunting is now legal and the people farm.

They sell their goods at the markets. But, this was fairly new for us. Almost overly-luxurious. Someone takes our coats at the door and labels them with our names before hanging them in a walk-in closet. I try not to let my PTSD compare this to being served by avoxes.

"Mr. Mellark and Ms. Everdeen. Welcome to The Garden. If you'll follow me to your table." said the hostess.

Peeta follows her and I follow Peeta. She deposits us at a table that overlooked the meadow. The seats are puffy and the table has a soft cloth covering it.

"What do you think?" Peeta asks, his brows furrowing.

I realize I don't care where we eat. We could have eaten on a quilt on the ground or at a grimy picnic table. I was just glad I was having dinner with him. It did feel bizarrely good to get out of the house. I might not do it again for a few months, but I'll remember it fondly.

I nod, "It's beautiful, Peeta. Thanks for taking me here."

Peeta picks up his menu and I follow suit. Inside there was a list of meals to order with the price alongside.

I mock the prices with Peeta, "That kind of money could feed a family for a year."

"Let's try not to think of what used to be." Peeta suggests. "Think about what's to come."

When our waiter comes, he brings a lit candle and a red rose. While his back is turned, Peeta quickly hides away the rose. He's still protective of me and I am of him. We survive and the trigger slips us by. At least the rose wasn't white.

I order lamb stew with dried plums and Peeta grinned, "I knew you were going to order that. I'll have the same."

I was so nervous with the implications of the date that I was certain I'd lose my appetite.

But, that changed when the food arrived about twenty minutes later. Peeta and I place our napkins on our laps and tuck in. Soon it was clear to both of us that it didn't matter what place we spent time together in. We were at ease anywhere.

The dinner went great and I ate a lot. We pay and leave extra as a 'tip'. My, how times have changed. We were taking a walk through the town when I notice that Peeta's getting a limp in his gate.

"Let's go home," I say.

Peeta shook his head, "It's nothing. It's just the cold air. It makes that femur ache. But, it's not that bad. I swear."

I'm adamant, "I'm not trying to end our date. Just your pain. Come on, we can continue the date inside my house where its warm."

Peeta relents at my insistence. By the time I get him in through the door, he does seem a bit better. But, I instruct him to sit on the sofa while I get us some wine. Once Peeta is heated up, he seems to forget his leg and so do I. Our faces get closer and closer.

We start kissing and his mouth doesn't taste as good as before but I don't care. Neither of us have forgotten how it felt to be threatened into publicly displaying our affections for one another for the entertainment of Panem. To do it voluntarily still gave me some pause. I decided to do something I was never forced to do by President Snow.

"Touch my breasts, Peeta." I consent.

I wait to see if he wants to. The pause doesn't drag on so long that I think I stepped over the line. Peeta hovers his hands over my chest and I take pity on him, guiding his hands the rest of the way. He cups them and soon he's kneading them so masterfully. I give a snort of laugher when I remember why: he's a baker after all.

"You can touch me anywhere you want to," Peeta consents, his voice sounding lower than usual.

Even though he said that and he's caressing my breasts, I'm too scared to touch any new place of _his_. So I comb my fingers through his hair, glide them around his neck, shoulders, and chest. His suspenders slip off his shoulders and he worms his arms free of them. After some time, something new happens to me.

I've been feeling a sort of pulsing sensation somewhere in my lower pelvis for about a half an hour. The fluttery-ness of it feels nice and exciting so I don't stop it. My chest flushes and my nipples stiffen against his hands. I shift a little and I realize that my briefs feel moist. Peeta parts his mouth from mine and turns away.

I kiss his neck and he drops his hands from my breasts.

"Katniss," Peeta gasps breathlessly, "I think we should stop."

I panic, thinking I got my moisture on his lap, "Why?"

He gulps, his Adam's apple bouncing, "I-I'm sorry."

I lift off his lap and he gets off the couch too fast. I look for a mark on his pants and don't find one. Peeta turns his back on me but not before I catch a glimpse of the bulge between his legs. Then I understand why he stopped kissing me. I had a lot of questions going through my head:

_Is this going to hurt? _

_ Am I going to bleed? _

I never had the sex-talk with my parents. My father died when I was young. My mother and I never got the chance. There was never any point to it back then anyway. I was never going to have children and I was never at ease with nudity.

I'd intended to live my life in celibacy, with only my own hands to satisfy my needs. But the Hunger Games were over, Panem had a new president. I had nothing to fear anymore.

"Wait, Peeta!" I choke out, scrambling to my feet.

He paused in pulling his suspenders back over his shoulders, his back to me, "What?"

I come up short for a moment, "Don't go."

"You don't understand," Peeta gives me a smile over his shoulder that I try not to consider patronizing.

I shake my head, "Yes, Peeta. I do."

Peeta pauses. Then he turns to me, searching my eyes. The bulge was still there between his legs but I keep my eyes on his.

He asks me, furrowing his brows, "Are you sure about this, Katniss?"

I nod, "I want you, Peeta. Do you want me?"

Peeta exhales a nervous chuckle, "You know my answer, Katniss."

Then he extends his hand out to me. I take it and we walk up the stairs to my bedroom. We don't turn on the lights but he lights a fire in the hearth.

"It's so cold," he explains.

It's not cold in the house. It was built with Panem technology. Some of the best insulation in the world was built into this house. I figure he's being romantic and I find the fire beautiful.

"Can you help me with this?" he asks, indicating his blouse.

I take it one button at a time. He unbuckles his belt, undoes the button, pulls down the zipper, and down go his trousers and briefs. I nod up at him before looking down. I almost smile to myself because a penis is not as scary as I thought it would be. I had wondered if they blurred it out when he had to take off his briefs during our first Games.

I did not let his prosthetic leg take center stage. I tug the neckline of my dress over my shoulders and let it fall, feeling every hair on my body stand on end. It hitched on my breasts, at my hips, then fell around my feet in a heap. Soon, I was almost entirely naked in front of Peeta Mellark. My hands hovered near my briefs and I could feel color flooding my cheeks.

I felt anxious but I didn't need to be. Peeta was staring right into my eyes. When I realized that, I didn't feel so vulnerable anymore. I take off my briefs, cursing when they snag on my ankles. Peeta laughs so I decide it's funny, too.

If he was expecting for something sexy like Finnick or Johanna, however highly he may hold regard for my appearance, he's in for disappointment. I sink down onto the foot of my bed, tempted to hold my knees so that my arms would block view of my breasts hanging so freely.

"How far do you want to go, Katniss?" Peeta asks, approaching me.

The fire crackling behind him highlighted his outline, turning him into an angel for me. The boy on fire.

My voice sounds stronger now because I'm being honest, handing him the condom, "All the way, Peeta."

"Let me know if you change your mind," Peeta insists, smiling at me in such a comforting way.

He slipped the condom on. That fluttering sensation in my pelvis resumed with a vengeance. I suddenly recognize it as the hunger I felt on the beach during our second Games. I step off the foot of the bed, wanting to erase any doubt of his that I wanted to make love to him and he to make love to me. Erase our terrible beginnings with our real love.

He must have seen the resolution in my eyes because he cupped my face and he kissed me like he never had before. Our breathing was ragged while we clutched to each other, stumbling blindly in the general direction of the bed. I drop myself down onto my comforter and he climbs on top of me. We maneuver the blanket over us, cloaking our bodies in darkness. My breasts part when I lie on my back.

I writhed beneath him, encouraging him to lay heavier on me. I had never felt this way about anyone before, wanting to feel every inch of another human being. I did not want to stop. My legs are flexible because I'm athletic, so parting them was a piece of cake. When I parted my legs around his hips and he entered me, I expected to feel pain.

But, Peeta slid in and all I felt was the pressure of him inside of me. My privates were dilated, stretched enough so that he would not hurt me. He fit in snuggly and everything felt wet down there. I'd overheard a lot of the girls gossiping about sex at school. Most of them claimed it hurt.

What with how _they_ described sex, I had feared that I would bleed. He grips the headboard to situate himself. I admire his pectorals and bulging biceps in the flickering firelight. His face is flushed. I kiss him and he starts to grind into me, using his arms to prop himself up.

"How does that feel?" he checks in on me, panting.

I stroked his chest, "I'm ok."

Peeta let out bark of laughter, "_Just _'ok'? Good."

I wrinkled my nose, "Are you ok?"

He answered me with his kiss. I felt pressure building in my pelvis. I pulled Peeta closer to me. I kept gasping his name for some reason. It felt natural to do that.

This moment was about us. He kept whispering my name, kissing my neck and lathering me with his tongue. Not more than a minute can have passed since he entered me. I'm confused about the pressure, worrying I need to pee. But it's building up fast with his rhythmic thrusts.

Then I'm interrupted by another new thing. My vision blurs slightly, I'm lightheaded, and I feel an overwhelming tingling sensation throughout my body. Then I feel weightless at the amazing sensation in my privates. Peeta beams down at me then his face screws up as something happens to him. It looks almost painful but I'm still too stunned to react.

His arms buckle and his head drops to my chest, tucked beneath my chin. I struggle to breathe beneath what felt like his whole bodyweight on my ribcage but I don't ask him to move. Instead, I hug him tighter once the feeling returns to my limbs. He slides out of me and when he rolls off of me, I feel all the air fill my lungs at once.

Muscle definitely weighs more than fat. We're both sweating bullets. After he took care of the condom, he laid beneath the covers with me. I laid my head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. He held me there, stroking my arm lightly with his fingernails.

I felt rather proud of myself for going this far. I had been wanting to for some time. I did not believe in the archaic concept of virginity. But, I could not have picked a better person do have my first time with than Peeta.

"You love me. Real or Not Real?" he asks after some silence, his breath still a little shaky.

I tell him, "Real."

**The End**

**Writer's Note: The last bit of dialogue is directly from the book. Also, this is my first time writing a fic in First Person POV so let me know how I did :) **


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